


Make the Yuletide gayyy

by Angel_Wings14



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An Elf with a plan, Christmas Fluff, Frozen (Disney Movies) References, Geralt is Santa, Gift Fic, Jaskier is an Elf, M/M, Reindeer, maybe a little cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wings14/pseuds/Angel_Wings14
Summary: Geralt needs the Santa's grotto in the shopping centre to go ahead - it's the biggest source of charitable donations his animal sanctuary gets thanks to his rescued reindeer. So when the guy playing Santa walks out last minute, there's only one thing to do. Luckily, Jaskier the Elf is more than happy to help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Make the Yuletide gayyy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [del_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/del_writes/gifts).



> Merry Christmas everyone :)

Jaskier arrived at the shopping centre, elf hat firmly pinned into his hair, to find the grotto in complete disarray.

His manager, Filavandrel (also called head-elf by his underlings when he wasn’t around), was trying to get the other elves arranged but no one seems to be listening. Triss sidled up to him, dress jingling as she moved.

“Valdo choked, dropped the gig,” she whispered furtively into his ear. Jaskier scoffed.

“Wow, who’s surprised?!” he said sarcastically, eyes rolling into his skull.

And really Jaskier wasn’t surprised. Valdo Marx wouldn’t know professional integrity if it did a pirouette on his very prominent gut. A gut, Jaskier was sure, was the only reason Valdo got promoted to Santa. Now it seemed that the opening of the grotto will be delayed, possibly cancelled entirely. Jaskier had sisters, sisters with expensive taste, he needed this Christmas job. Seriously, fuck Valdo Marx.

Jaskier was a nanosecond away from volunteering to take the mantel of Santa until a replacement could be found when a tall, white-haired Adonis strode into the grotto. (And thank goodness, Jaskier did not have the lap for Santa.) Although, Jaskier was quite surprised they managed to find a replacement this quickly. His voice was a low grumble as he talked to Filavandrel, his face like thunder.

Jaskier crept closer, ever nosy for gossip, yes, but also to get a better look at that chiselled, scruff-covered jaw.

“What do you mean you’ll be closing today? The transport is hard on my animals, you couldn’t have called ahead?” growled the hot-Santa. His gravelly tone went right through Jaskier, making him acutely aware of the tightness of his elf leggings.

“Mr Rivia, I’m sorry about the reindeer but unless we find a Santa the grotto is done.”

Reindeer? Was this the farm guy the female elves were swooning over last year? Jaskier never saw him, but he had heard tales of his legendary biceps.

So much for Santa….

“Hmm.”

…Then again “Mr Rivia” was about the same height as Valdo so the costume would fit. Plus the white hair meant the wig wouldn’t be necessary.

“Why don’t you play Santa?” Jaskier blurted out. He had never been one for tact, haplessly inserting himself into conversations he was clearly eavesdropping on and not invited into.

Two pairs of eyes turned to him.

“I just mean you already have the costume and Mr, uh, Rivia would fill it out nicely…” Jaskier blustered on. He turned to the newcomer square-on, surprised to note that they were almost the same height. His eyes were pools of molten gold, expressive in an otherwise impassive face. “Just think about the children!”

“Hmm,” the man frowned.

Jaskier quickly changes tact. The man was moaning about his animals…

“Think about the reindeer! They deserve this… opportunity…” Ok so that sentence got away from him a little, but the man’s facial expression has begun to shift. “You don’t want to leave them out in the cold, do you? Well, they’re reindeer so maybe they’d actually like that… I just mean…”

“Fine,” he cut Jaskier’s babbling off curtly. “I’ll do it.”  
Filavandrel let out a huge sigh of relief. “You will? Oh good, good, let me…”  
He ushered the new Santa into the back room, talking about their policies and protocols.

Jaskier turned back to his fellow elves with a bright smile. He did it! There were no cheers or congratulations, but Triss did offer up a smile. And Jaskier got to keep his job. What a win.

_“I’m sorry Yen, I might be late for pick up. No. Yes. Yes. Hmm. I… am filling in for Santa. No. Stop laughing. Fine I’ll see you later.”_

The second he emerged from the back room, Jaskier lost the ability to speak. And that was a very difficult thing to do, as Jaskier’s ex can attest. (And literally anyone he’s worked with ever.)

The red suit is pulled taught over Mr Rivia’s chest and his thighs bulge under the felt leggings. He certainly filled the suit much better than Valdo Marx. He adjusted the floppy Santa hat over his long white hair, now taken down from its tie. It was luscious and shiny, spilling over his shoulder. His golden eyes looked up just in time to catch Jaskier gaping.

Jaskier looked away quickly, blush rising up even underneath all of the ridiculous elf make-up he was wearing.

Filavandrel approached, a relieved grin on his face.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad it fits,” he said. “We’ll get you set up and Jaskier here can show you the ropes before we open up. Jaskier!”

Jaskier looked back over, taking in Filavandrel gesturing for him to come to them and Mr Rivia’s scowl as he plucked white fluff from his beard stubble. He took a fortifyting breath, pasted on a grin then headed over.

“Jaskier here has been working with us the longest, so he will be your personal elf for as long as you need him. Any issues with a customer, just tell them you need to talk to your elf friend and Jaskier can help you out. Jaskier, you don’t mind showing Mr Rivia here the ropes, right?”  
“Of course not,” Jaskier replied. “It would be my absolute pleasure to serve you, Mr Rivia.”

“Don’t call me that,” Mr Rivia growled.

“Oh? Would you prefer Santa? I love a man who method acts,” Jaskier drawled.

“Fuck no, call me Geralt,” he winced, lips curling up in displeasure.

“You know, Santa-Geralt, you can’t swear like that in front of the children. That’ll put you straight on the naughty list.” Jaskier winked.

“Hmm.”

This was going to go so well, Jaskier could tell.

_“You just want another carrot don’t you, silly girl. Ok fine, here you go. It’s alright for you, you’ve done this before. There’s no way I can pull this off…”_

Geralt was communing with the reindeer not five minutes before the grotto was due to open and Jaskier was panicking. He needed to be back here, going over the script or at least practising smiling.

Granted, his face had softened feeding the reindeer chunks of carrot he had somehow secreted away in a pocket in his costume. It did also lend itself well to his authenticity, and a large queue was beginning to form. Maybe because the kids were excited to meet Santa and his reindeer, but then again many of the mothers were also swooning where they stood. (Jaskier couldn’t blame them.)

But now it was time for Santa to get his butt in his chair.

Jaskier made his way to the reindeer pen at the front of the grotto. It was set up by the Kaer Morhen farm rescue and they had donation pots set up around the fence, along with leaflets about the charity. Geralt was mumbling something to one of the reindeer, scratching behind its ear.

“Santa,” Jaskier called. Geralt didn’t respond. “SANTA!”

Geralt’s head whipped around at the noise, only to catch sight of Jaskier gesturing to him wild-eyed.

It was time.

With one last reassuring pat to the reindeer’s rump, Geralt made his way out of the pen and into the grotto proper, where a large chair and a sack full of toys waited for him. There were so many people waiting, and he was beginning to sweat underneath the cheap polyester wool and felt. He really hoped he wouldn’t smell too bad by the end of the day.

The first child to enter the grotto was a small girl with pigtail tied up with silver bells. She smiled a gap-toothed smile, clinging to her mother’s hand as she bounced along. Jaskier slapped on his elf-persona and greeted them with a grin.

“Are you here to meet Santa?!” he asked.

“YES!” the little girl exclaimed, the most adorable lisp slurring her words.

“And what’s your name?” Jaskier knelt down so he could look her in the eye.

“Marie.”

“Well then, Marie, let’s see what Santa can do for you today.”  
With that, Jaskier led them to where Geralt was sitting. He wasn’t actively scowling, but his resting face was scary and glowering. Marie took up Jaskier’s hand and cowered a little into his side.

“It’s ok,” Jaskier whispered to her before raising his voice to speak to Geralt. “Santa, this lovely young lady is Marie.”

Marie pulled herself up onto Geralt’s knee, looking to her mother who nodded encouragingly.

“And what would you like for Christmas, Marie?” Geralt grumbled, his eyes twinkling in the grotto’s fairy lights. His face had softened and his lips were twitching up at the corners as little Marie lisped out her answer.

“Well, Mister Santa, I would like a baby doll and a crystal chemistry set like they have on the telly.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, but it was gentle and encouraging.

“And I have a little brother, he can’t speak yet or write letters, but I think he would want presents too. Maybe he can have some more blocks because he likes those. He has a favourite one and it’s red but our dog chewed it and now it doesn’t ba-balance properly…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Of course, Marie,” Geralt murmured to her. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
“Thank you Mister Santa!”

“Now smile for the camera,” the photographer said. He, too, was dressed as an elf. Marie smiled widely. Geralt… didn’t.

Marie leapt off of his lap and back to her awaiting mother. Jaskier directed them over to the sack of wrapped up presents. They were all generic little scraps of toys, cheap and mass produced, but the kids liked them all the same.

“Would you like to pick a present?” Jaskier asked.

Marie’s eyes went wide as she took in the massive sack and nodded fervently. She dove in with gusto, her entire arm disappearing before it re-emerged clutching a neatly wrapped gift.

“Thanks, Mister Elf!” she said happily. “And bye Mister Santa!”

Geralt’s shoulders slumped as soon as the little girl was out of sight, but he quickly had to straighten up as Triss led the next child in.

“This is Peter,” she said with a wink.

And so the rest of the day went, with barely a moment to breathe.

_“That’s it, right into the box… No, I know you don’t like it but we don’t have a stable and you know you don’t want to travel all the way back to the farm. No, don’t bite. Hmm. That’s it sweet girl, settle down now, it’ll be over soon. Not soon enough, but soon…”_

Jaskier was watching Geralt usher his reindeer into what looked like a luxury horse box, but what could pass for a temporary stable. He should probably have been on his way home by now, but something was keeping him here. (That something had golden eyes and a scowl.)

Once the door was all locked up for the night and the animals settled, Geralt emerged into the light. He looked tired. Jaskier wanted to fix that, if he could.

“Geralt!” he called, hopping over to the man. “Hi, hello, I was wondering if you wanted me to walk you out… Not that you need help finding the exit, of course, just I’m heading that way already… aaaaand you are walking away.”

Jaskier ran to catch up with Geralt as he strode away, long legs eating up the distance. This wasn’t going well.

Not to worry, Jaskier had a plan.

It was a good plan. A ten-step plan. He had a lot of time today, whilst watching Geralt soften under the dewy hopes and dreams of children, to come up with it. Jaskier called it his “10 steps to fuck Santa” plan. It went like this:

  1. Find out what he likes
  2. Use that knowledge to get him to notice you
  3. Flirty banter! Make him laugh
  4. Find any excuse to touch him so he’s sure of your intent
  5. Just to be doubly certain, bring up the fact you are single and gay (well bi, but very much into men)
  6. Do thoughtful things, like bring him coffee
  7. Casually mention you are a singer, then find an excuse to serenade him
  8. Hang out outside of work – this is a great excuse to get his number!
  9. Amp up the flirting with some saucy texts
  10. Have sexy times 😉



Sure getting Geralt to talk to him long enough to enact step one was proving difficult, but the grotto was running for the next three weeks, up until Christmas Eve when the shopping centre would shut for the holiday. Plenty of time.

“So, have fun today? You really saved us there huh?” Jaskier babbled, though he may as well been talking to a brick wall for all the response he was getting. “You don’t really seem like the type to save Christmas, though. Got a whole,” he gestured to Geralt with a flailing hand, “grinch thing going on with the brooding face and muttering to reindeer in your break.”

Geralt stopped abruptly, turning to look at the elf jingling at his side. (Jaskier still had his bells on. He liked the sound.)

He didn’t say anything, he just stood staring. Jaskier’s smile faltered nervously.

For an uncomfortable moment of silence they stood there, eyeing each other. Then Geralt shook his head and, with a grunt, continued on his way out of the building. Jaskier was slow to follow, dazed by the intensity of the moment they had just shared. He finally drew level just as they reached the doors. Geralt went to a truck, “Kaer Morhen Sanctuary” sticker plastered to the side, without so much as a wave goodbye.

“See you tomorrow!” Jaskier called out after him. He was answered with the slamming of the truck door.

Well then. At least Jaskier had a few items on his “List of Things I know about Geralt”. He knew he liked reindeer and staring. And saying “hmm”.

It was a start.

_“Another day in hell, Sven. Is that a good spot? Got to keep your coat nice and fluffy so you can earn your keep. Hay isn’t free…”  
  
_

Geralt was already in by the time Jaskier rolled up the next morning. He was brushing down his reindeer, a constant muttering issuing from his mouth. He didn’t even speak to the children that much when they came in. It seems the way to this man’s heart is through his animals.

“Morning Geralt,” Jaskier said, leaning over the fence post. He got a grunt in return, which was more than Jaskier got for his goodbye yesterday, so he was taking that as a win.

Retreating into the staff room, Jaskier sat in front of the mirror and started swirling lazy red circles on his cheeks. Jaskier loved his job, loved the kids and his fellow elves, but this face paint really did wreck his complexion. Ideally, he would want to have perfect, flawless skin, all the better for pulling off his seduction plan, but alas it couldn’t be helped.

Jaskier stuck close to Geralt for the rest of the day, not sure if Filavandrel’s orders from yesterday still counted. They hadn’t had any mishaps yesterday, but best to stick around just in case. Right? Right.

And if that meant that Jaskier stuck close during their lunchbreak too… well, can you blame him?

“So…” Jaskier approached. Geralt was sitting in the back corner, a small Tupperware of food in his hand. He scowled as Jaskier unceremoniously plonked himself down on the bench next to him, but didn’t say anything.

“So,” Jaskier started again. “Reindeer, huh? The… moose of Europe…”

Geralt turned to look at Jaskier, cheeks stuffed with his lunch making him look like a concerned chipmunk. Ok Jaskier can admit that wasn’t his best line. Hell, it wasn’t a line at all. Speaking to pretty men always made him nervous. At least he hadn’t mentioned the bread in his pants, like he had whilst seducing the hot guy who worked at the café a few years ago. That was embarrassing.

Speaking of bread, he decided to end this terrible case of verbal diarrhoea by bringing a mishappen pretzel from his pocket and shoving a large section into his mouth. He would have choked, had he not worked very hard over the past summer to completely destroy his gag reflex.

Once he had chewed and swallowed, and Geralt had returned to his own lunch with a bemused twinkle to his eye, Jaskier tried again.

“Tell me, Geralt, how does one get into reindeer farming?” It was hard to sound smooth and seductive with a line like that, but Jaskier was working with what he had. He licked his lips a little and batted his eyes, which may have even worked if Geralt was actually looking at him.

Instead Geralt’s gaze remained fixed on his fork as he answered.

“I was raised on the farm. I turned it into a rescue centre when I took over, and the reindeer came from another farm that was going under due to the negligence of its owners. The poor things were underfed and scared of people,” he made a noise of disgust.

It was the most emotion Jaskier had seen on his face to date, but not the good kind. But a conversation was a good way to tick off step two: get him to notice you. (If this hadn’t worked, Jaskier might have done something drastic, like shout “senpai notice me!”)

“That’s terrible,” Jaskier said. “I’m glad you were there to help them.”

“Hmm.”

They ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

_“No, it’s ok, keep me on as long as you need to Filavandrel. I don’t mind.”_

So Jaskier might have bitten off more than he can chew with this next step. He’s decided that even if he can’t make Geralt _laugh,_ he’d at least take a smile.

It’s been days and Jaskier is completely stumped.

At first, he tried a more subtle approach, compliments here and there ( _“Red is a good colour on you Santa”_ ), and small jokes about the work. But Geralt just hummed them away, or straight up ignored him, which, rude, but it is what it is. So, he decided to amp up the flirting. Not when there were children around, of course.

“Mmm, I love how you fill out your leggings,” he had said with an overt wink. Geralt straightened up from where he was bent over. 

Instead of smiling, Geralt frowned. He had _frowned._

Which is why, at 2 am on Thursday morning, Jaskier was found hunched over his laptop googling wholesome reindeer jokes in bed. He had started the evening much like any other, but at one point his one glass of wine had turned into a bottle and somehow he had ended up watching a romcom that was mostly rom and not very com at all (hence the subsequent crying). And now he had convinced himself that if he didn’t get Geralt to at least _smile_ by the end of the week he was going to die alone.

By the time he had stumbled in the next morning, a little hungover and very tired, he was armed to the teeth with terrible reindeer puns. And a large thermos of coffee.

Geralt was already seated in the Santa seat, dressed up and ready to go. Jaskier was later than he thought. He just had time to slap on his hat when the grotto opened. His seduction via pun plan would have to wait.

Then again, these jokes were child friendly, and maybe he was being too direct?

As Jaskier brought the first child to Santa, he tried out some of his new material, making sure to be loud enough that Geralt could hear.

“So Billy, I have a little joke for you,” Jaskier said, false pep in his voice. “What does a reindeer decorate his Christmas tree with?”  
Billy looked up at Jaskier with wide, blank eyes.

“Horn-aments!”

Billy didn’t react, breathing noisily through his open mouth. His father groaned and rolled his eyes. Geralt remained unchanged.

“All right, maybe that one wasn’t my best,” Jaskier conceded, directing Billy to Santa’s lap without another word.

The day progressed as such, Jaskier trying out his new jokes:

“What’s a reindeer’s favourite celebrity? Beyon-sleigh!”

“What do you call a reindeer on Hallowe’en? Cari-BOO!”

“What did Mrs. Claus say to Santa when she opened the door? It looks like rain, deer!”

Sometimes the children laughed, though often they were too young to get it. The parents often groaned and grumbled, but it was all in good spirits. Geralt was stoic as ever.

It was nearing the last child of the afternoon, and Jaskier was starting to run out of i-deers (sorry, ideas… this was really getting to him). Maybe reindeer jokes weren’t the best way to go about this after all, but he really didn’t know where to go from here.

“Hi I’m Chelsea!” A confident young girl said, bounding over to Geralt.

“Hi Chelsea! Would you like to hear a joke?” Jaskier asked. Chelsea nodded, grinning brightly.

“Ok then! What is a dinosaur’s least favourite reindeer?”

Chelsea hummed and thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know, what is a dinosaur’s least favourite reindeer?”

Jaskier leaned in to deliver the punchline. (It was one of his favourites.)

“Comet!”

Chelsea erupted in peals of laughter, but over that Jaskier heard a huff. He quickly snatched his head around, and sure enough the corners of Geralt’s mouth were twitching upwards ever so slightly.

It was barely a smile, but it was close enough. Jaskier felt like he was floating.

Step three: complete!

_“…Comet. Because that’s a reindeer name and it’s what killed the dinosaurs. I might have to tell that one to Ciri, she’d like it more that you. Yes, fine, have another carrot.”_

Steps four and five should much easier to complete. Jaskier’s very tactile by nature, and often when he talks to people he’s brushing their arm or patting them on the shoulder.

It was early the next day, and as a busy Friday dawned, Geralt had decided that the reindeer box needed a good scrub down before his Santa work began. Jaskier sauntered in just before Geralt had time to avail himself of the staff shower room, eager to get his next step underway.

“Geralt!” he cried, skipping over with a face-splitting grin. “Happy Friday!”

He slapped his hand down on Geralt’s bulging shoulder, squeezing the firm muscle he found there indulgently.

Then the smell hit him.

As he pulled away, the cloth of Geralt’s shirt momentarily clung to his hand like a sticky toddler. He gagged on the air.

“Geralt, what is on your shirt?”

“Uhm,” Geralt turned to look at his shoulder. “Dirt?”

“Uh-huh,” Jaskier nodded, turning a little green. “I’ll just, uhh, wash my hands…”

Jaskier scampered off to the toilets, leaving a stunned Geralt in his wake. He subtly sniffed at himself. He shrugged. He’d definitely smelt worse before.

After that first disastrous attempt, Jaskier was sure to check where he put his hands before he touched Geralt. He kept it light at first, but got more and more brazen throughout the day, trailing fingertips idly over hands and arms and shoulders at any opportunity. Geralt, for his part, didn’t seem to notice nor mind.

Time for step five, Jaskier thought to himself before the lunch break. He had to make sure Geralt knew he was very much available to him. He seemed the sort to brush off this sort of flirting as some sort of friendly gesture.

They had taken to eating their lunch together, mainly because Jaskier insisted on sitting wherever Geralt went, but today Jaskier found his way to their corner bench first and was delighted when Geralt joined him without fuss. (And if Jaskier scooted a little closer so their thighs were touching as they ate…)

It had become a well-established routine at this point that Jaskier would eat his premade sandwich in silence first, then snack on the rest of his lunch as he rambled on to Geralt about this and that. Geralt, on the other hand, contributed little, preferring to concentrate on eating whatever leftovers he had from the night before.

“So,” Jaskier began, licking the bread crumbs off of this fingers with an indecent amount of tongue. “I was talking to my ex the other day, and _he_ said that one of my favourite CDs was actually his! Can you believe it! He said he wanted it back, and I’m like ‘you don’t even have a car’, because who even listens to CDs around the house anymore… Anyway he kept insisting that he come over to get it, and he was all ‘what it’s not like I’m interrupting anything’, which _ouch_ by the way, because it’s true. But he gave up his right to comment on my love life, or lack thereof, when he dumped me at a Five Guys with the check…”  
“I listen to CDs,” Geralt said quietly. Jaskier just looked at him.

“Really?” he said, astounded. “Really?! That’s what you take from that story?”

“Hmm.”

There was something in Geralt’s eyes that looked like teasing. Or it did to Jaskier, so he just huffed a laugh and lightly hit Geralt’s well rounded bicep.

“Oh shut up!”

When Jaskier looked away, Geralt smiled.

_“He kept touching me Anna. He never did that before, but yesterday… Hmm. S’nice. I wonder if he will today. Yeah don’t give me that look, I know what you do with Sven when I’m not looking…”  
  
_

“Your reindeer is called Sven?”

Geralt thought he was alone in the pen, so the voice made him startle. Jaskier was hanging over the fence like usual, though unlike usual he was half an hour early for his shift and holding two cups instead of one.

“Jaskier.”  
“Good morning, Geralt,” Jaskier sang. “Now tell me, is Sven named after the reindeer in Frozen perchance?”

Geralt sighed.

Ciri had gone through a Frozen phase, just like most kids her age. It had been playing on a loop in their house for months to the point where Geralt could mouth along to every word. Of course, it was right in the middle of this that he acquired the three reindeer that now lived on his farm. They were promptly named Anna, Olaf and, of course, Sven. (A fact that earned several ribbings from friends and family alike.)

“Hmm.”

“Yes that’s what I thought. I have brought you the gift of coffee this morning.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”  
“Maybe I’m just hoping to work my way onto your nice list, Santa… Or would you rather I be naughty?” Jaskier finished off the question with a salacious wink. He didn’t think it would get him anywhere, it never had before, but then again…  
“My, oh my,” Jaskier crowed, balancing one of the cups on the fence post so he could dramatically clutch at his heart. “Is that a blush I detect Mr. Rivia?”

And indeed, Geralt’s face had a faint glow about it. He could feel the heat crawling up his cheeks and lighting the tips of his ears. He couldn’t help it.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier chuckled, delighted. Thankfully, he didn’t push it any further.

“That’s for you.” He gestured to the coffee cup left on the post then sauntered off, hips swaying.

_“Oh shut up, Sven, it’s just coffee.”_

“Filavandrel, please,” Jaskier whined. “I just need five minutes. It’ll be Christmas-y and everything!”

Filavandrel sighed. They had this argument every year, but it seemed Jaskier had an extra bee in his bonnet this year. Everyone who had ever spent more than a few minutes with him knew that he was a singer, and that he wanted to perform in the grotto.

Filavandrel wondered if maybe he gave in he would have to stop having this conversation. Would it be worth it? It sure was tempting…

Jaskier was still babbling on, eyelashes batting enough to create a breeze.

Filavandrel sighed deeply once more. He was going to regret this.

“Fine,” he breathed. “What did you have in mind?”

A few days later, Geralt was sitting in the Santa seat, ready to restart for the afternoon. It was a Wednesday and the shopping centre had been surprisingly busy this morning. If he were a lesser man, he might have start to get sore knees.

Jaskier had disappeared for lunch without a word, which wasn’t like him at all. He had been speaking so much these last few days, talking about his band, the pantomime he auditioned for but couldn’t take because rehearsals clashed with other gigs, on and on. It was clear he was passionate about it.

But now he was late to start the afternoon shift. Where was he?

Just as Geralt thought it, the light background music of the grotto changed to a louder song, flutes fluttering in festive flurries. The lights dimmed, a spotlight opening up onto the floor where a lone figure stood.

Jaskier looked up, grin bright and dazzling. He raised his bejewelled microphone, hand brushing the fur trim of his little Santa dress.

“Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”

Geralt’s eyes widened as Jaskier started to sing. He was actually really good, but this song was… something.

He winked and sashayed around, making the parents laugh at his antics while the children stared on with shining eyes at the flash and sparkle. Every time he sang “Santa baby”, “Santa honey”, “Santa cutie”, Jaskier took a step towards Geralt. Geralt couldn’t look away.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!” Jaskier sang, now standing in front of Geralt. He turned and plopped himself down onto his lap. “Hurry down the chimney tonight!”

The applause was rousing, people wolf whistling as Jaskier laughed, arms locked around Geralt’s neck. Geralt found himself staring at Jaskier’s throat as he threw his head back in rapture. For the second time since starting this job, he felt his cheeks heat. He hadn’t blushed this much since puberty.

“Right then!” Jaskier said, hopping off Geralt’s lap. “Guess I better get changed again.”

“Hmm.”

“Shame I really like this outfit.” Jaskier gave a twirl.

“Hmmmm.”

“Is that all you can say?” Jaskier asked, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Geralt, give me a review. Three words or less.”  
Geralt didn’t trust himself to talk, so he didn’t. To Jaskier, it just looked like he was scowling.

“Bravo Jaskier!” Filavandrel cried, bursting onto the scene. “Now get back into uniform, time to get back to work.”

Jaskier hustled out of the grotto to the staff area. He was happy he managed to get a chance to finally (FINALLY) sing this year, but his plan to seduce Geralt via song was a bust. He had hoped that he would get at least some reaction other than “hmm” and a scowl.

Then again, maybe it was a bit much…

Oh good Lord, what has happened to him? He has never _ever_ thought a performance was too much.

He must really like this guy.

_“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Yen, but I think I like him…”_

Jaskier decided, in the wake of this most recent emotional development, to re-evaluate his ten-step plan to seduce Santa. This required a more… finesse.

The next step was fine, perfect even. But perhaps he should hold off on the saucy texts and aim for a date? But if they meet up outside of work, wouldn’t that be a date already? So there’d be no point to the next few steps…

These thoughts kept Jaskier occupied throughout the afternoon, evening and well into the next morning. It wasn’t until they got to their lunch break that Jaskier realised that he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even asked Geralt if he wanted to come out after work yet. He didn’t know how he would even go about it.

They sat side-by-side on their usual bench in unusual silence. Jaskier was worried that he would blurt out something he would regret if he opened his mouth. They were already 20 minutes into the 45-minute break when Geralt slowed his chewing and turned to Jaskier.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Jaskier startled. Geralt had never initiated lunchtime conversation. Or any conversation for that matter.

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong? Why are you… not talking?”  
“Oh, I was just thinking,” he said slowly. He side-eyed Geralt. “Why, miss my dulcet tones my dear?”

Geralt lowered his fork, setting it against the Tupperware with a distinct clink.

“I find that I… enjoy these conversations,” he explained, each word rolling around on his tongue as he mulled them over.

“You do?” Jaskier’s voice was small and unsure. Mostly he just kept speaking until someone told him to shut up. No-one had ever actually said they liked his constant rambling. Not until now.

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled, but by now Jaskier could tell that that meant yes.

“Well,” Jaskier ventured. “Maybe I can make up for my lack of conversation tonight? We can go for drinks?”

Geralt looked down at his hands, hair covering his face so Jaskier couldn’t tell how he was taking that invitation. The silence stretched on.

“You don’t have to if you’d rather not…”

“No, it’s not…” Geralt was quick to deny. “But maybe Saturday? I have to make arrangements…”

“Oh yes of course,” Jaskier sighed in relief. “You have your animals to think of.”

“Hmm.”  
“Here, let me give you my number and we can figure it out later…”

Geralt fished out his phone and wordlessly handed it over. It was blocky, with large old-man buttons. Jaskier choked down a laugh. This was such a Geralt phone. He made quick work of typing in his number and firing off a text to himself.

“There, all done!”

Jaskier felt like he was walking on a cloud for the rest of his shift.

_“No Lambert, I know, just get the animals cleaned out then pick up Ciri. No. No please don’t do that. Look, I’m calling in a favour could you just please- Yes you do actually. Remember New Years Eve when you tried to- hmm. Yeah that’s what I thought. I’ll come over later.”_

It was Christmas Eve, the last day the grotto would be open, and Jaskier was panicking once more.

His plan to date Geralt had not gone well at all. They had gone out for drinks, as planned, but Geralt had to leave early after an emergency phone call. From Jaskier’s end he thought it sounded like there was a goat involved? But he could only hear one half of the conversation.

He texted Geralt, of course, after that night. He wanted to send pictures of cute animals in Christmas costumes, but Geralt’s phone couldn’t receive pictures, so he saved them up to show Geralt at lunch. Instead, he resorted to sending funny anecdotes of his morning or his walk home. He rarely got a response, except to ask if he was ok if he had hurt himself (or set his stovetop on fire) (again).

But Geralt never seemed interested in going out again. Jaskier tried to broach the subject the following day…

_“So our drinks were cut short last night…” he had trailed off suggestively._

_“Yes.”_

_“That’s a real shame,” Jaskier continued to hint._

_“Well, I’m sorry Jaskier, but I have priorites other than going out for drinks with you,” Geralt had angrily replied…_

They hadn’t spoken for the rest of that lunch. They were professional for the children, of course, but the frosty silence that had descended between them hadn’t broken until the next day, when Geralt had apologised for snapping. Jaskier readily forgave him, but didn’t bring it up again.

It occurred to Jaskier that he didn’t know if Geralt was even interested in men. He worried that he had come on too strong and this was Geralt’s way of telling him to back off. Jaskier would rather have Geralt as a friend than not at all. He’d really grown attached to the taciturn man over the three weeks they had worked together, and now he was panicking because after today they wouldn’t have the convenient excuse of work to see each other.

Another customer came to the front of the queue as Triss was showing the last kid to the pile of toys. It was policy that they only had one child in the “Santa zone” at once, so Jaskier did what he always did and made idle chatter with the little girl and who he presumed to be her mother.

“Hi there! What’s your name?” he asked, his smile feeling like a crack in the pavement.

“I’m Ciri!” she chirped back. She had beautiful pale blonde hair tied up in an Elsa braid over her shoulder. Before he could comment on it, she continued. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jaskier the elf!” he said with a head wiggle to make the bells on his hat jingle.

At that, the disinterested mother looked up from her phone and narrowed her eyes at him. Did he know her? He felt like he would remember sleeping with her if he had, especially with those striking violet eyes. Maybe he slept with her boyfriend? It had been known to happen, from time to time.

Ciri redirected her attention back to him, tugging at his hand with a joyful laugh.

“I have a secret to tell you,” she whispered behind her hand. Well, she tried to whisper in the way that young children do that they think is quiet but it’s not.

“Oh ok,” he whispered back. “I’m very good at keeping secrets!”  
“That Santa is actually my daddy!” she giggled. Jaskier gaped.

“Your d-daddy?” he stuttered.

“Yes!” she shouted, then looked around furtively. She leaned in, voice dropping back to a whisper. “Auntie Yen told me that Santa is very busy this time of the year, making toys and reading letters, so he finds people with magic that can help him reach out to more children. She said it was a title bes-bestowed on con-jits of chaotic energy, like my daddy!”

She sounded like she was recited verbatim something this “Auntie Yen” had said. It was truly adorable. At least it would be if Jaskier’s brain wasn’t stuck on the fact that this was Geralt’s daughter. He didn’t even know Geralt had a daughter. Did he know anything about this man at all?

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Jaskier agreed, though he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. “And it looks like he’s ready for you now.”  
He led her in by the hand she was still holding, but she quickly ripped out of his grip and flung herself at Geralt. He caught her up in one hand, which looked like a well-practised move. That cemented it in Jaskier’s brain. There was no doubt that this was indeed Geralt’s daughter.

The lady she had come with sidled up to Jaskier.

“So, you’re Jaskier?” she sniffed, looking him up and down.

“You must be Auntie Yen,” he said, a cocky smirk on his face despite this assumption being a wild stab in the dark. He hadn’t even heard of any Yen until today.

“Yennefer,” she smirked back, beautifully manicured hand held out to shake.

“You’ve heard of me, then?” Jaskier asked curious. He wouldn’t have thought that Geralt would ever talk about him, but today was full of surprises.

“Of course I’ve heard about you, Twinkerbell,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes.

Ignoring the leap in his heart at the implications of that statement, Jaskier gasped in offence.

“Twinkerbell?!” he cried. “I am an ELF, not a _FAIRY_!”

“Oh sorry, Twinky the house elf,” Yennefer sniped, quick-witted and smiling viciously. Jaskier just laughed. He could see himself getting on with this woman. If he weren’t so desperately in love with Geralt, he might have even tried to hit on her.

Speaking of Geralt, the little girl on his lap was bouncing up and down and talking a mile a minute about her day. Geralt smiled indulgently, eyes softening more than Jaskier had ever seen. He felt his heart melt a little more.

“Ciri,” Geralt cut her off. “Is there anything you want to ask Santa?”

She paused there and looked over to Yennefer who nodded in encouragement. Interesting. Ciri took a deep breath.

“For Christmas,” she stated slowly. “I want for Daddy to find a boyfriend so that he can be happy.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a brief minute. Jaskier held his breath, waiting for the reply. Would he explain to Ciri that he would have a girlfriend, not a boyfriend? Would he ask her to ask for something more material, like a toy or a puppy?

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Jaskier blinked.

He’ll see what he can do?

He’ll SEE what he can DO?!  
It was his standard reply, but the implications. The _implications._ Does that mean he’s in the market for a new boyfriend after all?

Suddenly Jaskier’s plan to ask Geralt out didn’t seem like such a far-flung dream. He was staring wide-eyed, mind reeling, as Ciri and her father had a photo. Geralt even got up and showed her the present pile even though that was usually Jaskier’s job.

“You alright there, Twinkles?”

Jaskier turned to see Yennefer watching on with an amused sparkle in her eye. Jaskier picked his jaw up and nodded mutely. She winked at him before going over to usher Ciri back out of the grotto.

“Bye daddy-Santa!” Ciri called over her shoulder.

Daddy Santa indeed, Jaskier thought. Oh damn, that’s not a thought to be having in these leggings.

_“Hi Triss, fancy seeing you here. Listen I have this idea…”_

Geralt was packing up, readying his reindeer for the journey home at last. They were antsy and impatient as he secured them up to the metal loops in the side of their trailer. Many of the other grotto employees had already headed off home, playslips in pocket.

Many had left, but not Jaskier.

He may have abandoned his ten-step plan before today, but now… And what had he to lose? It’s not like they would be working together after this.

So Jaskier was dallying at the grotto entrance, hoping to catch Geralt before he left. There were other shoppers still around, the shopping centre staying open till much later given the fact it was the day before Christmas, but most of the children had tired and gone. All that was left were some harried last-minute shoppers and a few loitering teenagers.

A flash of white caught Jaskier’s eye as Geralt ducked into the staff room. He made to follow but Geralt re-emerged with his bag, causing them to collide in the doorway.

“Oof, Geralt!” Jaskier wheezed. Geralt’s chest really was built like a brick wall. Fortunately, his very large hand was a steadying presence on his waist. Geralt frowned down at him.

“I was just… going…” Geralt said, but he didn’t move. Their eyes caught, and stayed.

“Actually Geralt I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yes?”

“Uhhh,” Jaskier hadn’t thought this far ahead. Usually he would just wing it, relying on his charisma and boyish charm to get him through, but he felt like he was wading in the honey in Geralt’s eyes. He looked down to try to clear his head, but was confronted with rippling pectorals barely covered with a thin cotton t-shirt, which served to muddle his mind further. Instead he looked up, flustered.

“Oh.”  
There, tacked onto the top of the door frame, was a sprig of mistletoe. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze.

“Hmm.”

As if in slow motion, they lowered their eyes until they were once more face to face. Their breaths mingled, having drifted impossibly closer.

“We don’t have to-“  
“It’s just a plant we-“

They both paused.  
“…I mean unless you want to?” Jaskier ventured.

Instead of replying, Geralt closed the gap. His hand came up to tangle in Jaskier’s short hair, pulling him in.

_Heads poking out from behind a pillar next to the grotto entrance, Yennefer, Triss and Ciri smiled._

_“Excellent plan, ladies,” Triss congratulated, doling out high-fives all round. Behind them, Jaskier and Geralt continued to kiss, unaware of their audience._


End file.
